When It's All Said and Done
by EXY.Uli
Summary: 50 years after the Second Bloody Valentine, a veteran in a her final moments. A Two Shot.
1. The End

**WHEN IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE**

* * *

><p>PART I<p>

_They say when you die, your whole live flashes before your eyes. It's impossible to escape from your past, to hide from your faults and mistakes, and to deny the wrongs you've done onto others. Someone once told me that as your soul stands before the Light, you see yourself reflecting back for all that you are. Every crevice of your being, every dark corner of your mind, every stain and scar that mars your souls is laid out plain in front of you. When Heaven opens its gates after deeming you worthy to be welcomed into its kingdom, it is you who must pass the last judgment. _

...

...

Lacus Clyne wakes up slowly. She turns unto her stomach, and feels her bones crack like brittle branches. Beside her, her husband of 49 years scowls and buries his head deeper into his covers.

"What is that god awful sound?" Kira's arm reaches out and gropes randomly in the dark.

For a few moments, Lacus just blinks and stares at the green light coming from the little screen on her bedside table. "It's the phone, hon."

Her clock tells her it's 5:18 in the morning and she groans. God, Lacus thinks, I thought retirement is supposed to be relaxing. She picks up the receiver and curses its persistent buzzing. It's been a few minutes, but apparently the person on the other side has no intentions of letting up.

"It better not be another telemarketer. How many times do we have to tell them we're not interested before they get the idea?" Kira grumbles. With old age comes the increasing difficulty to get a good night of sleep, and the retired general really becomes a cranky old man when he's disturbed from his nap time, not that there's much going on anymore that warrants waking the famous Kira Yamato at wee hours of the morning. "If I was ten years younger…"

His wife puts on her reading glasses and squints at the screen, "it's from Orb… Stana's number. Jesus, that girl has no sense of time. Hello?"

"Mom...hi…" The voice is evidently a few pitches too low to belong to her 43 year old daughter, but the distress and hesitance in her son's voice swept away any sleep residue in the former Chairwoman of PLANTS.

"Riley? Whyat are you doing at your sister's house in Orb? Shouldn't you be in– hon wake up –" Lacus nudges Kira and her mother instinct goes on hyper drive, "Riley – oh sweetheart, what's wrong? Did you have a fight with Lex again – Riley Yamato, what is going on? Sweetheart, say something!"

Kira sits up and stretches his tired muscles, and in the dark, he sees his wife's face contort from mild confusion into sudden despair. His heart gives a tight squeeze as paranoia whispers evil thoughts of something catastrophic– like war – into his mind.

"What? What is Riley saying?" Dread hangs over his head like a thundercloud.

Lacus's hand drops into her lap as she hangs up, and she looks at him with those blue, blue eyes that speak of something terrible.

"Jackson, Stana, Riley and Kat are all waiting for us in Orb. I-It," She reaches for his hand then, and holds on so tight that it physically hurts, "It's Cagalli."

...

...

Maurice Ravel's "Pavanne for a Dead Princess" fills the quiet bedroom chamber with its gentle tune. There is an easy breeze coming from the window, raising the sheer curtains to invite in the soft spring sunlight that kisses the brass gramophone bell golden. A gentle hand lifts the needle of the record player and a momentary silence fills the room.

"Daxien, son, leave it on." A calm, but authoritative voice says, "You know that one is my favourite."

The man twists his stethoscope wearily. The irony of the song is not lost on him. "But ma'am –"

"I assure you, good doctor, that it's quite alright." There is a slight sigh, a little tired, but not unhappy, "What must come will come, so there is no point avoiding it. Besides, Ravel's Pavanne has such a nice flow."

Daxien complies with his patient's wish. One of her last, he thinks with a heavy heart. What's the point of wrestling with an old dying woman? He almost smiles at his own ridiculousness. To think anyone can twist the arms of Cagalli Yula Attha into giving in once she sets her mind on something. That's a rather tall order.

The queen lets her attention linger on the young doctor for a brief moment, giving him a reassuring smile before turning to the people sitting around her. "Wasn't I a dish back then?" She jokes while referring to an old photograph of herself in lush forest green silk. It was a slim, single-shouldered dress tailored impeccably to her figure, with no extra fluff, lace or nonsense. The way the soft gentle waves of liquid gold shined was utterly ethereal.

The queen was the very definition of sublime.

"What do you mean back then? You still are, Aunt Cagalli." Viktor La Flaga cracks a grin, and the whole room rumbles with gentle laughter.

The doctor taps the tube of the IV once, before smiling down at the woman on the bed, propped up by half a dozen down pillows, and covered by the red and mauve quilt her grandnieces made for her 56th birthday. She was…_is_…much loved by her friends and kins.

"What about this one?" Stana Yamato, sitting to the right, holds out a picture of the queen shaking hands with a silver haired man. Stana reads out the neatly printed inscription on the back, "The swear-in of Yzak Joule, the 23rd Chairman of PLANTS, May CE 86."

"After 3 terms as Chairwoman of Plants, your mother has more than served her country. Besides, she was long overdue for a vacation, because you little devils were giving her a hard time," The queen shakes an accusing finger at her nieces and nephews. "You're Uncle Yzak was elected as her successor."

"Hey look, that's Lex!" Matthias Elsman points out his best friend in the background, standing beside his mother, the very elegant First Lady Shiho Joule. "Aw, what a cutie you were back then. What happened, man?"

"Shut up, prat." Lex Joule rolls his eyes.

Matt and Lex, like their fathers, have been as thick as thieves since toddler age, but unlike their fathers, they grew up without having to see each other maiming and slaughtering nameless enemies. Matt, bless the man, has music written in his bones, and will not live without his beloved cello. Lex though, likes the guns and the thrill that comes in a neatly wrapped package called Zaft Intelligence. Whatever their choices are, the queen is comforted in knowing they made them for their own dreams and not because the pressure of family names and expectations.

"And what do we have here," Lex picks up another photo, trying to take the heat off himself. The queen as a younger woman is holding a kicking and shrieking boy over the ocean waves.

"That screaming little monster is Riley." Stana's older twin, Jackson, peers across the bed and laughs. "He was terrified of swimming when we were younger. Little scaredy cat." Jackson struggles between gasps, earning himself a hard slap on the arm from his brother glaring at him with stern blue eyes.

"Geez, I didn't know you were such a handful. Tsk, tsk, bratty baby." Noah, the middle Joule child, smiles teasingly at his husband. His sister-in-law Stana whispers something into his ears that causes him to snicker.

"I was not a brat!" Riley huffs indignantly at Noah.

"Hmm," The queen smiles at the children in front of her, who really, aren't children anymore. Many of them have already become parents and started lives of their own.

The next generation stands before the Chief Representative of Orb like a wall of stability built upon the foundation of peace their forefathers traded their lives to preserve. They are the proof that life not only continues after the war, but prospers, blooms and gives to new life. Her generation had sacrificed the prime of their life to fighting and killing – they had no choice in the matter. Bloodshed and war consumed too much of their innocence, and their adolescence became too tainted with tragedy and death.

True, no one single person can be blamed for such misfortune; the entirety of humanity together is the perpetrator, but within it, each condemned individual is branded with one crime or another, the aiding and abetting, negligance, omittance...the list goes on. And they feel it, they _all_ do, even after the stitches are removed and the bandages are peeled, somewhere deep down where even they themselves are afraid to venture...in the dark nasty pit filled with ghosts and crumbled souls, shit and scars and unspeakable things, they feel it. The burn. Pressed upon them like hot iron against flesh, sizzling and charring...

They'll never have a wholesome life - the queen, her colleagues and those who feel the burn, they all know - because people like them will never lose the ghosts that haunt them, and the burn will never cease... the pain never ease.

_We'll always have these ugly scars, Cagalli, whether they're on our chests, or in our hearts. We'll always have them. _She remembers Kira once telling her after the birth of his firstborns. _But they…they won't. Look at them, sis, look how beautiful they are. Lacus and I, we may have given them our noses and our eyes, but the scars we'll keep to ourselves. It'd be a crime to pass on such painful legacies. _

She turned to her brother then, full of hope and resolve, _I promise you Kira, that the children of tomorrow will live and grow to become painters and doctors, architects and chefs, CEOs and bus drivers, teachers and quantum physicists, dancers and mechanics…Some of them will become like me, a politician, and some will be like you, a soldier, but they'll never have to be taunted by death like we did, and never, ever, will they have our ugly scars._

The queen glances around the room, and feels a sudden surge of pride swelling in her chest, smothering the burn. It's almost gone these days, the burn, but it still likes to lick at her with its dying flames every once in a while. Not today though. Today she can hardly feel it. Her promise came true. The children she held in her arms and kissed and loved have broken free from the shadows of their parentage and established their own niches in society. That's the way it's supposed -

The queen suddenly hunches over as she is caught in crippling spasms of coughs.

"Aunt Cagalli!" A dozen voices exclaim at the same time. "Hambrecht! Doctor! Daxien! !"

But the queen lifts up a hand to silence everyone, "Alright, everybody tune down the volume. I'm still alive." She leans back onto her pillow and turns to the doctor, "but a cup of water would be nice."

Twelve pairs of eyes fix worried gazes on the old woman lying in bed as the doctor urges her to put on her oxygen tubes, which she still adamantly refuses, saying it won't keep her living any longer.

"Hmm…it's quite alarming, having so many pairs of eyes staring at me like that." When she speaks, the queen's voice is raspy but firm. Everyone lets out a breath of temporary relief.

"Hey Aunt Cags, glad to know you still got fire in you."Jim Elsman's attempt to lighten up the mood falls flat when he can't manage to hold the smile on his face.

"Hey, hey, don't be so glum, you're bringing this old woman down." Cagalli waves her hand irritably. Blood or not, they are her nieces and nephews, and she hates to be the cause of their sadness, "Maggie, Viktor, Dae, stop looking at someone's going to die – pun not intended. Maggie, wipe those tears, my tough foreign affairs officer never cries."

Marjorie, Viktor, and Dae La Flaga nevertheless struggle with the orders they handed. It breaks Cagalli's heart to see them standing at her bedside, and she almost wishes they aren't. This is their third time in one year sending a loved one to eternity, after the passing of both of their parents, one quickly after another. Viktor stands before her in his colonel's uniform, and the queen curses inwardly at the last minute postphone of the multi-industry international conference in Carpentaria. If it were not for that, Marjorie, a foreign affairs minister who is representing Orb, and her brother Viktor, one of Orb's naval generals, will not be standing here, in front of their queen, watching her take her dying breaths.

Dae, the youngest La Flaga and a mirror image Murrue, turns her face away when she can't stop the tears. The queen imagines she's the least equipped to deal with death, having been surrounded by cheerful, naïve children all day at the elementary school where Dae teaches history.

"Matt," The queen rests her hand on the shoulder of the man sitting at her left, "Look at how handsome you'd be if you were smiling, boy." She holds up the snapshot of Matthias at his first cello recital at age of seven, taken by his mother Miriallia.

"Smile."

"Jim always called it 'The Shit-eating Grin'," Matt chuckles softly at the younger version of himself, but the queen knows it is for her sake.

She sighs, "I didn't invite you all into my chamber to see your frowning faces. I think I've seen enough of those in my days. We're living in better times now, look how gorgeous today is. There's no reason to be so glum, my dears." She gestures weakly at the old photographs spread out over her laps. "I took these out to remind myself of the good things I was blessed with. Honestly, if I had a picture for every tragedy that ever happened to me, every death I caused or seen, every person I wronged, and every failure I committed, there would not be space on the ground for you to stand on."

"But I don't need to put the bad things in photographs." The queen continues, "Because I carry them with me…here," She taps at her heart, "every day. My mistakes, my regrets, there are all here. My faults I have repented for and to those I've wronged, I've paid my dues. I have looked into mirror and said with honesty, I did my best. I will always have regrets, but I have no shame and no sorrow. So don't be sad for me. Don't cry. I am going to die, and I am ready, if Haumea will have me."

There is a long moment of silence during which no one moves or says anything. Frankly, no one knows how or what to say. Jackson and Stana grips onto their aunt's right and left hands as if they fear that she will float away into heaven like a hot air balloon. Beside Stana, her husband Jim Elsman, who's an editor-in-chief at large publishing company, squeezes his wife's shoulder wordlessly. The queen does not miss his movement, however small. Nor does she neglect to see Riley clutching Noah Joule's hand with bruising strength.

At the sight of them, Cagalli cannot deny herself a pleased little smile. So many years of being The Boss poisoned her with the addiction to have the world under her thumb, or at least, moving in the tract that she drew out for it. She's a little embarrassed to say that she has become a grade A control-freak and perfectionist. Yet, little acts of unconditional support her family displays remind her that the world will continue to spin on its axis in a 24 hours cycle, and even as she lets go, her family will be fine because they will have each other to lean on when she is no longer there to hold them under her wings.

Of course, it is close to impossible for her to stop worrying. She worries. Over everything and everyone. It's who she is, and that's just what she does.

"The media sure is crazy." The silence is finally broken by the doctor, who stands by the window, peering down below. "Looks like everyone wants a bite of the meat."

"Huh, I wonder what crazy tales they'll spin off this time." The queen rolls her eyes. She has long ceased to care.

Wars may end but social criticism will always exist, or as long as there is the media to twist, mold and over-blow the truth to cook up the juicy scandalous stories it tries to sell to ignorant, discriminative, hypocritical fools. Rumours and gossip are bullets of a psychological sort, so that stupid sticks and stones saying needs to fuck off, because words _can_ hurt like a bitch. And who knows this better than the Queen of Orb?

Ah, the curse of being part of famous families.

_Oh my, the great Kira Yamato's son, not in the military? He's a financial risk analyst? Well, that's a great waste of good genes and family connections! Oh, what now? He's a homosexual? Who is his boyfriend again? Chairman Joule's son, Noah Joule! Who works as a medical examiner! So now he's a homosexual and a necrophiliac! Oh how the mighty families have fallen! _

It was a period of domestic chaos. Noah and Riley have lost count of how many times they've caught their mothers sitting in an empty room, crying angry tears while tearing magazines into strips and pieces. In the end, the boys stood hand in hand, with maturity and dignity, and told the world to 'bring it'. Gods be thanked, their relationship worked out marvelously, even if Yzak still mumbles under his breath every now and then, "can't believe he married a Yamato."

"I don't understand what's the big deal," The queen shakes her head, "What's so interesting about an old woman dying that attracts so many reporters. I mean yes, I am the Chief Representative of Orb, but my death is not going to be colourful explosions and angels coming down to claim by body. Somebody needs to tell those morons outside to go home."

"Auntie K, d-don't say that," Kat Yamato, 32 and still likes to live with her head in the clouds, is sniffling loudly because she really wants to sob. "you can't possibly – "

"Kitty Kat, baby, shh…" the queen pulls her niece down into a hug and Kat buries her face into the queen shoulder. "it's alright."

Seeing the queen is straining under Kat's form, Stana gently pries her youngest sister off their aunt, and hold hers in her arms while she ran her fingers through Kat's pink hair.

The queen's head falls back against the pillows, and she draws in slow shallow breathes, "Kitty here is just a little too big for me to carry that's all." But the end of her sentence comes out so soft that her family can barely catch it.

Doctor Hambrecht steps in at that moment, "I think the Representative needs to rest now. Speaking is taking too much energy from her. I will go get her some more medication."

The crowds nod understandingly at the Daxien's request, but no one moves an inch. There it is. The moment of goodbye. The queen may be ready, but they sure as hell aren't.

"Be good to each other," The Representative, like a true monarch, holds out her hand for them to grasp, and beseechs them in her tired but commanding voice her last commandments. Her eyelids flutter weakily, threatening to close forever, "Be good to your family, your friends, and learn to forgive even your enemies. Earth and PLANTs support us beneath our feet, but it is us who lift up this world. Remember that."

She pads the hands of her nieces and nephews, and they lean down to allow her to kiss their cheeks and to kiss hers. Then, tearfully, one after the other, they exited the chamber –

"Skylar," The queen calls the youngest Joule, who never said much this entire time. Skylar pauses at the door, one hand on the knob and the other on her slightly rounded belly. "Yes, Aunt Cagalli?"

"Stay."

...

...

Outside of Attha Manor, thousands upon thousands of Orb citizens gather on the streets. Their conglomeration is one done with solemn respect and silence as cold as death. The news of the queen's condition spread like wildfire, and the people can feel it in their bones. Today will be the end of the reign of a great leader, and goodbyes must be paid.

A sleek black automobile pulls up the street towards the Manor and the crowd of civilians makes way for it while the media rushes forward. They recognize the famous family crest that is engraved on the front of the car. It was once the political symbol of a great leader and his ideals; even after his terms in office the people of PLANTS and even those of Orb still recognize and believe in it.

Orb's own ministers, cabinet members, and senators stand in masses on the outer stairs, old and young. Mostly old though, for those with seniority have likelier chance of knowing the Representative as more than a dynamic politician, so would therefore feel obliged – compelled even – to await for their Queen's final wishes. All those who saw her grow, who grew with her, they stand together now in solidarity. Their silence bids their farewells.

It is not a moment of sorrow. No never. Sadness in the presence of death would demean the vigor and utter dedication with which the Queen led her life. Regardless of the countless fatal threats, the queen gave her entire being to realize the promises she made to her people and to herself. No one understands this more than the man emerging from the car. After all, he led a similar life to his female counterpart. Coming from backgrounds of respectable power, they both suffered the pain of losing one's beloved parent, fought, bled and toiled through two bloody wars followed by 50 years of sociopolitical reform, and both ultimately were deprived of the one thing they truly wanted.

Athrun Zala stands before the Attha manor in grave stillness. He hasn't looked upon this place in almost five decades. Yet, it still feels like home. As he moves past Orb's politicians, he notices they can't meet his eyes. He feels their regret and shame, but he cannot find it in himself to offer them his sympathies or forgiveness, which he knows is what they are truly seeking. Black cane in hand, head held high and walking with too much dignity and stealth than man of sixty eight should muster, the chairman ventures into the manor as if the fifty one years since he's been Alex Dino do not exist at all. Familiarity and ownership he unconsciously exudes over the manor only solidify the title the servants have unofficially crowned him.

"Master Athrun, the queen has been waiting for you for a long time," A maid, Mana's successor, smiles politely.

Master, an honoured title not even Kira is blessed with, for he will forever be known to the staff as General Yamato.

"You're right," The chairman's smile is wane, "I've kept her waiting long enough."

...

...

When the doctor returns with the medication, Skylar Joule is no longer there, and the queen lies still on the bed. For a terrifying moment, the doctor believes the inevitable has happened, but the shallow raise and fall of the queen's chest testify that she has simply succumbed to a calm slumber. Sighing, the doctor stands at her bedside, and with a pang of sadness he notes that out of all the pictures the queen goes through, there isn't single frame which shows Representative Attha with a family of her own. Even after all these years, she doesn't have a life partner or any children.

Abruptly, almost though she knows him standing there, the queen opens her eyes and golden orbs are upon him like stars. She looks at him like she knows exactly what he's think. Daxien feels … bare … underneath her gaze. Not naked in a physical sense no, but as if her gaze can undress him emotionally by pulling down every professional barrier he built up and seeing through his every attempt at apathy.

"The people of Orb are my family. The orphans of this country are my children." She says in her raspy voice, and places a weak wrinkled hand on his arm in comfort.

The acceptance she harbours inside, Daxien can never understand. Solitude. What a terrible constancy. He doesn't even begin to know how she endured it all these years.

The queen turns her head towards the sun, and when she blinks, the doctor can almost see the phantoms that swim in the deep pool of memories behind ancient eyes, and he thinks that maybe she is never truly alone.

"Take it easy ma'am. You don't want to wear yourself out." Daxien pats her hand and holds on. He's not really supposed to, but he can't bring himself to let go. It's not like he's never lost important patients before, but none of them are like her. He made a mistake to get so attached, but gosh, can you blame him? Representative Attha is every bit as brilliant and awesome as everyone makes her to be. "And…for all of us, I just want to say thank you, ma'am. Thank you so much."

The representative nods serenely, "It was my pleasure and honour."

The doctor hangs his head as he holds the queen's hand in both of his, "I just wish that there is something I could do, because I feel like I failed my job, failed this country, and failed…you."

The queen actually chuckled, "Don't be so hard on yourself, doctor, or you'll give yourself an ulcer. God knows I certainly did during the harder times. Listen sweet boy, it's not cancer; it's not a chronic condition. It's just…age."

The doctor sighed in resignation, "Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?"

There is a glint in her ancient eyes Daxien can't decipher, "Ah, now that you mention it, there's a document in the top right drawer of my bureau. It's very important that I deliver it, if you could please bring it to me."

Doctor Daxien Hambrecht smiles, "Of course ma'am. Anything for you."

...

...

In front of the oak doors is a mass of people the chairman does not expect to see, or at least, does not expect to see gathered here so quickly. He doesn't ask the whereabouts of Kira and Lacus, for he had a feeling in his core that the flight from PLANTS will not arrive on time. The same would apply then to Yzak and Shiho. Unlike them, he's been in Panama on a humanitarian project with the indigenous people when he received the news from Riley. On a bench closest to him, he sees Matt Elsman burying his eyes in his fists, and remembers that Miriallia and Dearka Elsman are in a remote mountain resort somewhere on Earth for vacation where Miriallia can indulge in as much freelance photography as she wants. By the time they learn of Cagalli's pass, it will be too late, and the simple fact that they aren't there to say goodbye will devastate them.

Jackson, the Chairman's favourite nephew and the oldest out of the four siblings, is the first to notice him, but it isn't long before the rest of the party catches on and rushes forward all at once to offer hugs and their condolences.

The chairman smiles at the children of his friends, "How is she?" He asks them.

"She's not in any pain," Stana replies tearfully, "She's been tired lately, more than usual. Her appetite and sleep pattern have been off, but the doctor's couldn't find anything wrong. They thought…the doctors….they thought she's just having an off week, until she collapsed around 5 ish in the morning. The doctors have been tending to her and said she needs rest."

"Doctor Hambrecht said if she gets better within the next few hours, then we have nothing to worry about, but it doesn't look like…" Jackson continues for his sister, "her organs are failing…"

The children bow their head at their uncle's stricken expression, "How…"

"We don't know. I'm so sorry Uncle Athrun," Over the shoulder of Kat, the chairman sees the older Elsman boy giving him a discerning look like he knows exactly what is going on. Jim reminds him way too much of Miriallia, whose entire life is focused on the unsaid and the suppressed. Very few in this world know of the history and bond that the queen and the chairman share in their youth and to this day. The chairman doesn't quite believe that _Jim _can be one of those few people.

"When I can see her?"

"Lord Zala," Daxien makes his appearance then, and he bows respectfully to the senior man.

"Doctor," The chairman places a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder. He holds the boy still as he implores into his eyes, "Tell me the truth."

_The truth, the truth...can you handle the truth? _

"She...she won't make it past noon." Daxien finally admits. He speaks with professional politeness and pleasantry, but his eyes betray that he is mourning like the rest of them, "You may see her now, but please Lord Zala, don't overwhelm her. Her condition is tender."

...

...

When she opens her eyes, he is there. The same smiling green eyes that's always a little sad, gazing at her tenderly. There is no more need to hide, nothing left to lose.

"Hey stranger," Cagalli greets, "How've you been?"

"Oh you know," Athrun shrugs playfully, "papers need to be signed and idiots need to be yelled at."

Cagalli chuckles, "I thought that was my job. You were always extra nice to your employees."

There's a pause. "Shinn called earlier."

"Oh?" He's not a bit surprised, "What did he say?"

"He didn't say much." Cagalli sighs, "He called, and that's enough."

"He cried." It isn't a question.

"He did." Cagalli chuckles. Truth be told, Shinn called because he too is stuck in PLANTS and fears he would not make it in time, and there are things he needed to say before it is too late. Cagalli didn't lie, Shinn really did not say much, but the tears he shed over the phone as he thanked her for her unconditional support despite his acrid and impertinent attitude put to rest her secret fear that he never truly forgave her.

There's silence again.

Athrun reaches for her withered hand, "Sorry I'm late."

The wrinkles on her aged face deepen as she smiles with all the love she's bottled up in side over the years. Like a tap finally let loose, her happiness to hear his subtle confession overflows.

"You're here. That's all it matters." She squeezes his hand understandingly.

"I saw your colleagues outside," Athrun starts, "and I see it in their faces the shame they feel, and though I wanted to say 'good, you should be ashamed', all I found myself thinking is how great it would be if they felt this way a little earlier."

A single tear slips past his curtain of graying lashes, and it broke her heart to see him like this. There'd only been a handful of people who Athrun wept for. His parents, Kira, and her. Cagalli gazes at the man she gave her heart to since those olden days on the island, and sighs a little. True, she has no regrets and no scores unsettled, but Athrun is standing in front of her now, and Cagalli realizes there is one wish that she will never be granted for as long as she lived. Finally, he's back at her side just as promised when he first put that ring on her finger, but god, a lifetime has been wasted between them.

In his eyes, she can see the what-could've-beens, and the huge emptiness hanging between them is filled with the dreams they wish they could've made real.

Gingerly, the princess caressed the faint scar line hidden among the wrinkles on her knight's left cheek, the result of a failed assassination a few decades back. It had landed him that scar he later refused to remove and an explosive bullet to the knee that never quite healed.

Athrun lets out a sigh of contentment, leaning into her much welcomed touch and closes his eyes. "I'm so sorry. Sometimes I wish things had been different..."

"Yes, we can wish, but listen to me," Cagalli grips his lapel, forcing him to look at her, "We strived, we tried and we did the best we can. So this is the only way. Can u honestly tell me that the past five decades years of your life had been miserable? That you were not happy?"

He shakes his head, relenting, "I cannot. The last decades have been wonderful."

She smiles in satisfaction, "Good, because mine have been too. We are only given one life to live, and we'll never know how things could've turned out if we had chosen otherwise. Any other way…"

Athrun smoothes back her snow white hair. How gold has turned silver. She's still so beautiful. "Any other way could be better, but it could also be worse. At least with the choices we have made, we know for a fact that we are, to a certain extent, happy." He finishes for her, knowing exactly what she wants to say. His own sentiments are not far from hers, it seems.

Cagalli mirrors Athrun's caress, and gently ran her fingers along his grey hairline. Her thumb traces his well-formed brow, then down to his high cheekbones, before stopping along his strong jaws, rough against her skin with salt and pepper stubbles. It is an act of rediscovery which proves to the small cynical notion in her head suspecting this is just a really beautiful dream that everything she sees in front of her is close and so very real.

"Our deal is still on, right?" She asks him, a slight tremor pulses through her, "You're not going to back out on me?"

Athrun smiles and shakes his head, "Never."

Another pause.

"I love you, Cagalli."

How long she's been waiting to hear him say that? Too long, if you ask her, but she doesn't mind the wait. Though she admits, sometimes she felt like throwing in the towels, and that the languidness of time grated on her nerves more than just a little bit, but as impatient as she was(is), she was never a greedy person, Cagalli likes to think, and in the end she is contented with what she has. To spend her last moments on this planet with him at her side and whispering lovely things into her ears, she can't ask for anything else. Without warning, the dam of Cagalli built to well up her emotions bursts, and the tears she didn't let herself the luxury to cry fall like rain upon parched earth. The release is nothing short of magnificent

"You know that, right? It's always been just you," He kisses her fingers. "My heart has always been yours. It's just been…. in storage for a while."

Her vision is blurred by her tears, and she can't form a word, but she nods her head fervently. Wiping at her tear-stained face, she manages to catch her breath, "I know, I know…"

Their eyes lock. Athrun leans close until their noses are touching and his forehead rests gently against hers.

Against those warm lips, Cagalli whispers for just her lover to hear, "I love you too, Athrun."

And then he claims her lips with his own, and pours into her all the love, hurt, passion and fear he's contained within himself. She welcomes it all, raising her hand to grasp the back of his neck so she can kiss him deeper, and in that moment, Athrun understands what it feels like to finally be home.

...

...

The doctor sits down weakly into the queen's armchair. He is alone in her office, but the quietness that surrounds him does not dilute the screaming voices in his head. The parcel he came to retrieve for the queen lies limply beside his feet where he dropped it, its contents spilling out from its brown-paper package.

Daxien looks into the bronze-framed mirror mounted on the wall across from him, but he doesn't recognize the stranger that stares back with horror etched onto his face and green eyes bright like jade.

He's never realized how green his eyes are before.

Leafs of cream white paper scatter across his lap, and he holds the envelope in his left hand. He still doesn't quite believe that the letter is addressed to him.

_To Our Dearest Son Daxien_

He remembers his parents, the Hambrechts. They were good, law-bidding, tax-paying folks who liked to take him to the park on Sundays. His mom was a ginger, if he recalls correctly, and his dad had doe brown eyes.

Daxien hangs his head and prays that it is them who wrote the letter, but his lie can't fool anyone, not even himself, because the wax seal is crested with the sigil of the house of Zala, and the address of the letter is written in the queen's sharp cursive. On the very last page of the letter, the closing ends with two names and two signatures.

_With all our love, _

_Your mother and father, _

_Cagalli Yula Attha & Athrun Zala _

Suddenly, everything changes.

* * *

><p>To be continued. Reviews are very much welcomed. To those who write the first version, you must realized by now that I took out some stuff. I've decided to put those contents later and present it in a different way. There were some grammatical erros I caught and had to change, and a few details I wanted to add. So I re-uploaded it. Hopefully, I caught all the gramatical errors, if not, they'll be fixed when I post chapter 2. Thank you all for reading. :)<p> 


	2. Long Live the Queen

**WHEN IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE**

Part II

…._Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who've trespassed against us, give us this day our daily bread…our daily bread… _

_It's a prayer I've said a million times in my life time, Sunday mornings and Wednesday afternoons, and it isn't until this moment that I realize why we must forgive others, because forgiveness is a two way street. Only by offering pardon can we even begin to hope to gain absolution ourselves… _

* * *

><p>His earliest memory of her comes from an unremarkable summer afternoon along the beaches of California. Back when he was young his family lived in San Francisco for a while, and every Sunday afternoon his mum Rachel would take him to the local park by the beach.<p>

As a kid he wasn't much for monkey bars and swings, but he did like the water and the fresh salty air of ocean side grounds. When Pete came with him, they'd go swimming together and build sand castles. Mostly Rachel was the one who took him, and she didn't like the sand or the waters much, which begs the question why she insisted them moving from Orb to one of the sandiest places in the continental U.S. Daxien never gave it much thought before, but if he really tried to remember, he'd recall his mum sitting on the same bench every weekend watching him with those sad and pensive eyes as he splashed and frolicked in the shallow sea.

She must've known this, Daxien now comprehends, things her husband did not know until much later, or maybe not at all. His mum must've known the truth about this parentage, because there was always something extra in her gaze when she looked at him, a depth and desperation his dad never had. If she knew, then the truth was bottled inside her for all those years, and she never let it show except for those Sunday afternoons when she would sit alone and lament the bittersweet emotions she harbored towards her son.

Her son…he'll always be her son. Rachel will always be 'Mum', the woman who kissed his nose and tucked him in, who baked him gingerbread cookies when she was not on call in the ER, whose hair smelled of fresh linens and strong soap. Oh, how she held him, loved him, cherished him.

Mum, Mummy, but not Mother. Daxien has never once referred to Rachel as his mother, not to her, not in his mind, not even when he's recollecting tales of her years after her passing. It isn't a conscious decision, just something that came to be. This small detail, minutes ago, wouldn't have meant a thing, but now… everything just falls into place. Seems like it was meant to be…

Daxien sighs. He hates how fate has a way of 'rubbing it in'; in the small crevices and minutiae it leaves proof that you can't change what is written in its books. Rachel was never his mother, and could never be his mother, because biologically speaking, that title belongs to someone else entirely…

_She twisted her hands._

Rachel, Rachel, what are you doing…? Why do you always run? Can't you just fight back for once?

Fight back? What's the good in that? I can't hold off the beasts, and they'll get to him… take him away.

"_Gwah! Gwah!" Daxien flapped his arms and ran into a group of seagulls, "Look mummy, I'm a bird! I can fly!" The seagulls leaped into flight, startled by the sudden intruder. They circled the boy's head, gawking resentfully at the fact that he was stepping on the breadcrumb feast they were dinning on. Deciding nothing can be salvaged from the boy's oblivious stomping, the seagull flew away from the nuisance of a boy, hoping he wouldn't follow, but he did anyway, like always. After all, the boy had a curiosity huge enough to kill a million cats, and a stubbornness persistent enough to wear a hole through the earth. _

"_Now, don't be naughty, Daxie," Rachel looked up from her book to scold her son halfheartedly for disturbing the poor creatures. She could never be mad at him, her baby. Beautiful. Innocent. Perfect. Daxien was her little prince – _

_Like a vice, the thought choked her blossoming smile in its cradle, and she felt the sudden urge to puke. _

_Daxien was not just _her _little prince; he _was _a little prince, in every goddamn sense of the word! One day, she'd wake up, and he'd be snatched from her arms and be placed within the iron grip of the queen, and Rachel would never see her little boy again. The queen would want her son back, her cold silent glare from the window that first day told Rachel as much. _

_So Rachel ran, because that was what she was good at. Deep down, she knew that the people – the very rich and powerful people – who gave her Daxien, did not treat this as an adoption, but a loan, a loan which they had every intention to collect the dividend and the interest. _

_Rachel recalled something from her freshman biology class in university, about a type of butterfly who would trick the work ants into thinking that the butterfly pupas were ant eggs. Once the pupae hatched, the worker ant would work, feed and care for the caterpillar as its own larvae. But that wasn't enough. Soon as the caterpillar began to demand more food and nutrients, it would mimic the signals created by the ant queen, essentially hypnotizing the worker ants to think it as their queen. The poor confused worker ants in some extreme cases would even kill their actual queen and their own larva to feed the needs of this parasitic caterpillar, until the day the caterpillar grew strong enough to leave and become a butterfly itself, leaving the ant colony as nothing but an empty shell. _

_Daxien is this parasitic caterpillar, left in her care by his beautiful, majestic butterfly mother. And she, Rachel, is the stupid, hard working ant who gave her all for something that never even belonged to her. _

"_Mummy! Look! Look!" _

_Rachel shook her head. _No, my Daxien isn't a caterpillar. I might be that stupid ant, and she might be the butterfly, but my Daxien isn't a manipulative, soul-sucking caterpillar. Caterpillars never confuse the ants as its mother, but Daxien calls me mummy. I'm his mummy. Me. And that's never going to change. Never.

_In this case, the little ant got smart, got brave, and she kidnapped the caterpillar and dragged it across the world, hoping to get away from the butterfly, but she forgot one very important thing. Butterfly had wings, it could fly, faster and more efficiently than any ant could crawl, and in the end, she still found them. _

_Rachel stood up from her seat, stretching her back and calling to her son, "Daxien! Baby, it's time to go home!" However, he was nowhere in her immediate line of vision. Rachel's heart skipped a beat, "Daxien? Dax? Buddy, where are you?" _

Oh dear god, he was just here a minute ago. _The young mother grasped her head in her hands. Her mind was racing three hundred kilometers per hours, thinking of the worst scenarios. What if the ocean gulped up her baby? The waves were unusually strong that day…What if a felon took him, but no…she hasn't seen anyone in the park today. _

"_Daxien!" Rachel cried, tears already pooling in her eyes, "Dax –"_

_And there he was._

_To the far east of the beach, up where the sand gave away to grass, he was standing in front of a kneeling woman, her blonde hair catching the sun and matching his own. Suddenly, a very different kind of fear pressed down on Rachel's chest. Her nightmare came true. _

"_Dax!" She ran to him. _

"_I'm here, mum!" The boy came as she beckoned, and she pulled him against her with one tug when he was within an arm's reach. A little too roughly, if she thought it about it, but the boy didn't seem to notice, and she was just glad to have him in her arms again. _

"_Mummy," He grinned back at her toothily; his skinny sandy arms wrapped around her legs, his green eyes bright with mischief and mirth. _

_Like she said, she couldn't even be mad at him when he looked at her like that, "Baby, where did you go? You scared me to death!"_

_Dax turned his head towards his new friend and Rachel reluctantly looked up and met the eyes of the woman she never wanted to see._

"_Hello Rachel," Cagalli smiled calmly. _

"_What do you want with us?" Rachel blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She tightened her grip on Daxien. _

_Cagalli paid her no attention. Instead, she knelt down in front of the boy, "Dax, buddy, here's five dollars, why don't you get yourself an ice cream cone over there."_

_Dax regarded his new friend wearily. His mummy didn't seem to like her, but she didn't seem like a bad person. Besides…all his young coordinator brain was capable of processing was how much he wanted that ice cream. Daxien looked up hopefully at his mum, "May I?" _

_Not knowing what else to say, Rachel nodded wordlessly. Squealing, Dax thanked the lady and sprinted to the ice cream parlor. _

_Cagalli stood up then, face to face with her child's adoptive mother._ Goodness, _thought Rachel, _she is so tall. And scary. _Rachel added as an afterthought._

_By instinct, the young woman took a step back, as if caught between the dilemma of bracing herself to fight or fleeing for her life. _

_Brushing the sand off her sleeve, Cagalli appeared nonchalant, "Don't worry, I'm not here to fight with you. I just wanted to see my son. I miss him." _

_My son. She said it so casually that Rachel wanted to pull at her perfect blonde hair and scream He's MINE! But she didn't._

_Instead, she opted for a more civil approach, "How did you find us?" _

_The queen tilted her head to the side, puzzled that she could even ask such a thing, "You don't think I'd let my child go without keeping tabs on him, did you? You moved, disappeared without a trace, and didn't even think to tell me –" _

"_I-I didn't know who to tell –" Lying to the face of an aged politician like the queen who had eyes that could penetrate her soul, was a feeble and pathetic attempt, Rachel realized. _

"_See, people like you make my life hard." Cagalli moved in closer, gripping Rachel by her arm. Her smile was dry and thin, "But I'm not too worried because most people who make my life hard have a tendency to disappear. Tell me Rachel, how difficult do you think it'll be for me to erase you and your husband from this planet? Or better yet, take Daxien away."_

"_You can't…you can't!" Rachel trembled with fear and rage. "I love Daxien, you can't take him away!" _

"_Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, what you don't recognize is that is that you are an unremarkable, barren, easily replaceable woman." The queen clucked her tongue, and spoke in a calm, casual tone, but her words had an edge, and it hurt Rachel more deeply than knives. _

"_Please," Rachel whimpered pitifully, as she tried to yank her arm from the queen's claws. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again!" _

"_For your sake, I certainly hope you won't." Cagalli released her, and pulled back to face the sea. Suddenly she started to chuckle, "You know, if you hadn't pulled this little stunt of moving across continent, I dare say you'd never have to see me again for the rest of your life. When I gave up Daxien, I wanted the best for him, and I had no intention of interfering with your family as long as he is safe. So I hope you understand the best way to keep Daxien is to keep me – ah, how shall I put it – in the loop, if you will." _

_The queen turned back to Rachel and patted her shoulder, "Now don't look so glum, smile for Daxien." _

"_Mummy!" Daxien came skipping back, ice cream cone in hand. The two adults shook themselves from the tension that held them together, and turned with smiling faces to the little boy. _

"_Well, what do you have there, big guy," Cagalli ruffled his hair. _

"_Chocolate sundae," His cheeky little grin made her heart melt._

"_Hey Dax, wanna give your Mummy a bite of the sundae, I have something to give you." The queen crouched down again in front of the boy. "Remember to share, right?" _

"_Mmkay, but Mummy doesn't like chocolate sundae, she only likes vanilla." Daxien challenged. _

"_Sure she does, don't you Rachel? Chocolate sundaes are your favourite." Cagalli looked up expectantly. Rachel let out a shaky 'yeah' and accepted the sundae her son offered politely. _

_From her pocket, Cagalli drew out something small and shiny. It was a tiny red rock, attached to a platinum chain, "Do you know what this is, Dax?" _

"_It's a Haumea stone; people in Orb wear it a lot." _

_Cagalli smiled tenderly and brushed the sand from the boy's cheeks, "Do you know what it does?" _

"_Yes ma'am, it's said to ward off evil, gnarly creatures, or at least, that's what it's supposed to do," Dax scrunched up his little nose, a gesture which resembled Athrun so remarkably that Cagalli almost wept, " but I think it's just superstition." _

_The blonde laughed, "Aren't you a smart boy?" She appeared so pleased and proud, "but in your case, Dax, I think it's true." _

"_What's true?" He tilted his head sideways, and frowned adorably in confusion. _

_Cagalli placed the necklace over his neck, "I think the Haumea stone is the representation of protection. This stone used to be mine, and I'd like to think I have some guardian up there nudging me in the right direction. Now it's yours. So whenever you're scared, just remember, angels are watching over you." _

_Then, hesitantly, Cagalli pulled Daxien close and planted a soft kiss once against the crown of his head and then against his forehead. Her heart beat frantically. She was afraid he'd reject her, find her affection awkward, but he didn't. Little Daxien just melted into her, and put his arms around neck. Cagalli was so glad that for now he was just a child, who didn't know that hugging a complete stranger was weird and dangerous, who only probably liked her because she was seemingly nice and bought him ice cream, and that it was warm and cozy to be hugged and kissed. She clung to the brief moment, wishing it'd last a little longer, or better yet, wishing she'd never have to let go. _

_But she had to let go. _

_Pulling back regretfully and with no small amount of tears in her eyes, she said, "Goodbye, Daxien." _

_To the woman she simultaneously resented and was grateful towards, she offered a smile of amelioration "Goodbye Rachel." _

_Then the queen turned on her heels and left. Above the hill was a blue haired man standing there waiting for her, donned in dark slacks and an un-tucked dress shirt. The queen walked past him and they shared a short exchange before the queen continued onwards and the man remained where he was, just standing there and gazing down._

_Rachel immediately recognized him. Who didn't those days? That was Athrun Zala; she didn't think there was a person alive in the world who didn't know him. He watched Daxien with such sorrow and longing that it instantly made sense to her. He was Daxien's biological father. Daxien's green eyes…_

So the rumors were true, _Rachel thought, _oh my god I'm raising the love child of Cagalli Yula Attha and Athrun Zala!

"_Mummy, who is that man?" Dax tugged on his mother's coat tail, but by the time Rachel looked back up, Athrun Zala was gone. _

"_Mummy…" _

"_Yes, dear." _

"_I think that lady was very nice. Strange, but nice." _

_Rachel didn't want to say what came out of her mouth next, but she couldn't help it, "Maybe it's because you don't know her yet, Dax. If you know her, maybe you'll change your mind. Now come on, Daddy is waiting at home for us. He's making you barbeque chicken tonight." _

"_Daddy…"_

…

…

"Daddy."

Daxien hears a voice calling to him. He recognizes the voice; it is one of his favourite in the world.

"Daddy."

Saoirse [SEER-sha] peeks shyly from behind heavy oak doors, half of her body hidden in fear. But fear of what? Her own father? 6 years of living in a sheltered family and community being loved and cherished should give her no reason to be afraid of anything other than the proverbial boogieman under her bed. Saoirse, without fail, is made of 50% undiluted innocence, 30% wild curiosity, and 20% blunt honesty. Yet, her frown puts a dent between her brows, and she's pouting with all the might she has in her little body. Confusion and alarm is etched onto her baby face as clearly as shock and distress are on her father's.

In twenty years, she'll probably recall back to this moment as the first time she ever saw her father cry.

Daxien gazes are his little girl through tear-blurred vision. He's always wondered why neither of his parents' features – his _adoptive_ parents' features as he forcefully corrected himself – seeped into her genes. Saoirse is mostly considered a Joule child, with her pale colouring and fair complexion, like her maternal grandfather. Now, everything makes sense. He can hear it in her laughter, feel it in her smile, and see it in the stance she holds herself. Saoirse's messy silver French braids can be passed off as pale blonde, and her eyes are sincere and _golden, _and it has never looked more appropriate than this moment. Daxien almost laughs at the obviousness of it all. If the gods poured Cagalli and Yzak's essence into a palette and painted a child, surely Saoirse will be it, odd yet perfectly reasonable.

A hand appears behind Saoirse and cradles her head against someone's jeans. The child looks up and sees her mother standing behind her, "Momma, what's wrong with Daddy?"

_Sky, what's going on? What happened to Dax? _Daxien hears Lex's voice in the corridor.

_Don't worry Lex, everything is fine. I promise. _As a renowned cabinet member of PLANTS' ministry of Space Development and Security, Skylar Joule is excellent at her specialty, and right now her husband has no doubt that she is doing what she does best – damage control.

_Why, what did Aunt Cagalli say to you? _

_You'll find out soon enough. Now is not the time. Take Saoirse; she can't be here for this. I need to speak to Daxien alone. _Skylar pads Saoirse's cheeks "Go with Uncle Lex, sweetheart. He'll take you to your grandmother. She's been waiting to see you all her life."

_Skylar, what are you talking about? Mom and Dad are not here yet. _

But Skylar doesn't reward her brother with a response. She simple hangs her head and sighs. _Take Saoirse to the queen, Lex. Please. Take her to the queen._

The Joules always were a smart bunch of brats, and suddenly Lex understands. _Well I'm be damned._

_Alexander. Brother. Please, just go. _

…

…

"Is this why she wanted to speak to you alone?" His tone is bitter.

"Yes." Skylar rubs tiny circles on her pregnant abdomen, "She wanted to say hi to the baby. Her grandson."

Dax runs a hand down his face, "All these years….how long have you known?" He feels so tired, so tired, like years of his life is taken from him. In a way, he guesses it has.

Skylar flinches under her husband's broken stare. The betrayal she sees jabs at her conscience. "Since Saoirse was born, but I've had my suspicions. It wasn't until they came to visit me at the hospital… together … that I confronted them with the question."

"And you didn't think to tell me! I deserved to know! This is MY heritage! How could YOU of all people keep this from me, Skylar? How?" Dax bellows. Papers fly hazardously as he bolts up from his seat. His face is strained and devoid of all colours. Livid. Skylar can only think to describe him as livid.

"Because…because…" Skylar looks away, her reasons and logic lost in the moment. He is her husband, her best friend. Why did she keep this from him? It is a question whose answer has kept her lips sealed for six years, and she has held strong under the constant pressure even when sometimes she thinks for sure she will crack. Skylar knows how to practice discretion well, but this – this is not a simple matter of discretion. So why? Why? Why?

God, if that isn't a question she asks herself everyday.

_She was close to hyperventilating. She could feel it. Pacing back and forth, she fanned herself, and willed her breathing to return to normal. Giving her conditions, she really shouldn't be stressed. Her surgery was last week and coordinators heal fast, but still. Her OB/GYN would not be pleased with her. Oh geez – she clutched her side, where the C-section wound was still very fresh. Saoirse had been a difficult baby. _

_Her head felt dense, and everything was fuzzy. The queen's frantic voice telling her to lie down was nothing but mumbles in her ears. Her mind was on Daxien; she needed to see him. She could not live another minute with this revelation pressed down on her chest. _

_God, she couldn't breathe…couldn't breathe…_

_The earth spun beneath her feet so quickly, yet the people around her moved so slowly._

_Skylar lurched for something to grasp onto, but there was nothing as she hit the ground. _

_When she came to, after an unknown amount of time that could've been seconds or hours, she was back on the bed, with an IV in her arm and someone's soothing hand through her hair. _

"_Mom..." She called out. Blonde hair swayed in her blurry vision. "Aunt Cagalli, what happened to me? Dax…" _

"_Shhh, Sky, it's alright. Your mother went with Dax to get you some fresh clothes from home." The queen pacified, "You need to rest, and we'll talk later." _

"_Aunt Cagalli, wait." Skylar held onto the other woman's arm, "Why? Why won't you tell him? Doesn't he deserve to know?" _

_Cagalli turned to her partner in crime, but Athrun remained unresponsive. His attention was solely concentrated on the yellow bundle in his arms as he faithfully watched over his new granddaughter. From the way he cooed softly at the sleeping enfant, Skylar recognized a man in love. _

_Sighing, the older woman smiled sadly, "As long as his father and I are still in political power, Daxien is not safe. He is a good, reputable doctor, and he has a life of his own, independent of us. Of course in the end we'll tell him, but for his safety and yours and Saoirse's, this lie has to continue till the end. Please, Skylar, please understand." _

"She just wanted to protect you. Us," Skylar stands before Daxien, telling him the only thing she knows for sure. No more secrets, she thinks, it's time to come clean. "She doesn't expect you to understand, but they did what they thought was best for you, and in turn, I did the same."

_Please forgive me. _Her tone implies clemency.

Daxien slumps finally against the desk, feeling utterly drained. His hands look unfamiliar, and he does not feel like himself. The hollowness that's always been there but was ignored and insignificant is all he can register now. Everything is different, and he is different.

Daxien runs a hand over his face tiredly. "I don't know what to think anymore."

His wife grasps both of his hand in hers. Blue eyes as clear as water beg him to stop this self-deprecation.

"You are still you. Just because you have a new last name, does not make you different." Skylar leans her forehead against her husband's and brought his knuckles to her tender lips. "I love you. At least that much will never change."

"All these years, I worked as her physician when she was my mother all along. She could've raised me, given a home when the Hambrecht's died, but she didn't. Why didn't she?" Daxien looked up accusingly at Skylar, as if she had done him some terrible wrongs, "why did she leave me in an orphanage? Why did _he?_"

"They were protecting you –" Skylar shakes her head and frowns. The nerve of the man to criticize the queen! Oh she loves him, but Daxien can be such a stubborn, incorrigible asshead!

"They are ashamed me! Of their bastard!" Daxien pulled away. His wide, pupils blown, face ashen. He whips about, turning and coiling in despair and neurosis. His whole body seem to exude self-disgust and acrimony. "I was the little hiccup in their otherwise perfect political career! An accident. An unloved, unwanted, bastard!"

"No!" Skylar belts, and serves a mean backhand at her husband. She watches him stumble, shocked at his wife's unyielding blow. Her heartstring yanks painfully but she does not help him. "Don't you dare say such a thing, Dax! Don't you dare! Your mother is one of the bravest, kindest mothers I've ever known. I will not let you suggest anything less."

"Good mother? Good mother? Skylar you know my mother better I do! I am her son! She has been anything but a mother to me! She abandoned me! Her and my father both!" Daxien cries out, doubling over in pain that is not merely physical.

Skylar rights the knocked over chair, "Sit." She commands with stern eyes and curt attitude. Then she turns to gather up the mess her husband has created on the floor. "You say they abandoned you, never loved you, but have you not found it odd that even as orphaned boys you have never wanted for anything." She picks up the documents of trust funds and property claims, and almost snorts at the obscene about of wealthy the Attha-Zala power house has managed to cumulate for their love child.

"You said so yourself. You had the kindest caretakers in that orphanage until you were of age. Never once were you forced into adoption or a foster home." Skylar continues on. Glancing down at the paper she picked up, she swallowed an exasperated sigh. _CE 92, good lord, these documents are old. Daxien couldn't have been more than a boy back then. Really how many bonds and stock market investments did a boy need? _She shoved those paperworks up into the envelope as well.

"You were fed, clothed, sheltered, educated and loved. Those opportunities are not accidents! They were given to you! And this," Skylar shoves the package into her husband's chest, "this is all for you. Everything so meticulously planned, prepared, the thickest silver lining there could ever be! All for you. You, who has their utmost, undiluted love."

Skylar watches the man she loved struggle with himself. He knows she is right, even when he does not want to admit it, he knows she is right. Oh it's so much easier to be angry, to hate, and mercy is such a painful thing to give, as is forgiveness, which may indeed be the reason why people who possess the virtue of charity were often praised as saints.

Forgiveness heals; it cleanses the guilt in the perpetrator, and appeases the gaping wound in the victim. Anyone who's ever pulled out a splinter knows the pains of forgiveness. At first, there's the heavy reluctance to overcome, the fickle thought of just leaving the splinter there and hope that it miraculously vanishes on its own. Behind the reluctance, the thing that fuels it is the fear of the hurt, of the pain of physically removing the splinter. God, who like to prick themselves with a needle anyway? Yet, logic tells us that such an option is medically foolish, because a splinter will get infected, and cause even greater distress. So we grit out teeth and say to ourselves, okay let's get this over with. Unfortunately though, you are not always successful on your first try; splinter removing, like forgiving, is a process that takes patience and trials, and with each attempt to pick out the splinter, the wound burns rawer, as if you're making it worse. But suddenly, often catching us by surprise, the splinter comes out, and you are flooded with a vast amount of liberating relief. The pain, by then, is but a dull ache.

Skylar has seen first-hand what forgiveness can do, and she wills Daxien to have it, for the reason of saving him from a lifetime of hate and regret.

Blood pounding in her ears, face flushed and hands shaking, Skylar could not help the words pour from her lips as water bursts from the dam; all the things she's always wanted to tell her husband, all the secrets, thoughts, her feelings that she was asked to reserve – it all just came in torrents of pain and tears. "You think it didn't hurt them to have you torn from their arms? You think the queen didn't cry rivers of tears when you were plucked from her breasts as a baby? You think it didn't hurt them to know you're calling some other couple momma and daddy? You think it didn't hurt?"

Ashen cheeks glistens with salty dews, and trembling hands wipes at them listlessly, "Then why? Why?" His voice was hoarse.

"Your parents had countries sitting on their shoulders, and millions of lives to protect; it's a weight you can never imagine in your wildest dreams. To live with them, you, their son, would be lucky to live in mockery and judgement, and if you were not lucky, you would die at the hands of people who sought to destroy your parents."

Silence ensues. Skylar doesn't pressure her husband for a reply. She understands the turmoil in his head. He needs to figure things out for himself. This is his parentage after all. She has every confidence he will come to see the truth.

But the clock is ticking.

Suddenly, the couple hears frantic footsteps approaching. The door of the queen's office burst open and Jim practically stumbles into. "Dax! We need you right now! The queen-" Then one look at Daxien's pale, strained face and it all becomes clear to him. Years of suspicion solidified into the truth in his mind.

"Dear god," Jim gasps, "It really is true."

...

...

The hoard of nurses crowds around the queen, frantic as the peeping of the machine's urgent alarm. It sounds like death's call. The chairman is ushered aside as the nurses worked, and he stands there with Saoirse clutching onto his pant leg with her sweet young life. She doesn't realize how much strain she was putting onto her grandfather's bad leg, how tired and scared and helpless he felt in face life's greatest test. As she sniffles and whimpers mournfully, fat tears slipping past her long silver lashes, she doesn't know how much the older man wants to do just the same.

Daxien pulls away from his queen mother – he tries to focus on the thought that she is his patient – and hangs his stethoscope over his neck. The nurses stare at him expectantly, and he gives them the signal to prepare for the end. "Get her comfortable."

Taking the vinyl gloves off his hands, he turns to the man who waits for some answers. He dreads facing him, because at this point, he doesn't know how to feel, how to act. Should he be the doctor or the son? Daxien stares at the weary figure of his man who somehow is his father, watches the fatigue slump of his trembling shoulders, the slight forward curve of his spine, his tight grip on his cane, and the desperate plea in his eyes, and he doesn't see a father. He doesn't even see a famous Chairman of PLANTS. Simply, he sees what any doctor is too accustomed to see, a family member who is lost and powerless and is absolutely not ready to let go of his loved one.

As a doctor, Daxien met many patients who in the terminal stage of their illness, has accepted their fate and is ready to let go and be reaped into the otherworld. It's a frequent phenomenon that towards the end, it is the patients who turn around to comfort the doctors. _It's not your fault, doc, you did everything you could. It's a better place up there anyway right? _ But the families, god, they will never be ready. No matter how long their loved one had been ill, or how ill they were, the families will never be ready. Such is the pain of loss: the incapacity to even consider letting go, until their loved one is forcefully pulled from the earthly planes, away from their protecting arms.

Whatever anger Daxien harbores towards the Chariman, in that moment, is replaced by a doctor's instinct to comfort. He rushes to the Chairman's side, and place a hand on his shoulder, "I'll tell the nurses to leave." He says, "She needs to be with you right now."

"Daddy," Saoirse breaks away from her grandfather and clings to her father's white lab coat, "What's happening to grandmamma?"

_Grandmamma._

Saoirse's big golden eyes stares tearfully back at him, and Daxien feels like he's going to choke. The full force of reality hit him like a pelt of hail. He feels suddenly foolish. His resentment, blame, anger, what's it matter now? His mother is dying.

"Daxien," Athrun reciprocates and grasps Daxien's hand in both of his, squeezing hard, "She needs to be with _you _right now. Forgive her. Please." Then the old man bows his head, hiding the tears and his shame, "We are so sorry, Daxien, for putting you through this. It's selfish I know. I know. Your mother and I, we- I'm sorry! But right now, _son_, please-"

But Daxien doesn't finish listening to Athrun's lament. He is by the queen's bed in a heartbeat. _Son. _He is their son. Her son.

"Ma."

...

...

_Ma. _Someone calls her. She hears him vaguely, as if through a blanket of foam. _Ma. _

Cagalli turns to the sound. _Ma. _Nobody has ever called her that. She was many things. Lil sis. Army Brat. Princess. Chief Representative. Your Grace. Madam. Queen. But 'Ma', there's only one person in the entire universe that can call her that.

"Daxien…" She opens her eyes, and he is there, all blond, atristocratic nose and green eyes. Her perfect son. "Sweet boy…I'm so sorry."

She swallows; her voice is like sand paper.

"No, no, Ma, please don't be sorry! I'm sorry! Sorry I was such a jerk! I should've listened to Skylar, I should've listened!" Daxien isn't making the slightest sense to her, but Cagalli is alright with that.

She reaches up and touches his face: her eyebrows, Athrun's cheekbones, Athrun eyes, Kira's nose, Lenore's lips, her chin. 30 years since she held him in her arms. He was tiny back then, a little bundle of everything she swore to love and protect, and eventually had to let go.

She has held him, literally and figuratively, in the palm of her hands for all these years. Stern, severe, and distant, she is not a mom and he is never her precious baby boy. The queen is a lioness, who through careful schemes and tactical ways allows social evolution to push and shove but ultimately welt and perfected her cub's capability to hunt, thrive and survive. And though he tumbles and falls, and scraps his knee and breaks his arm, she bares her teeth and holds back the real terror from him, with neither his knowledge nor acknowledgement. In the dappled background she stands behind him, the echo of her presence never once impeded his freedom to soar, but always ready to catch him when he falls.

_Thank you Haumea, for returning my son to me. _Cagalli prays with a smile. Her hand falls to Daxien's chest, and against his scrubs, she felt the stone. "Y-you, you still…still have it."

"I never felt right without it." He clutches her hand and kisses it. Tears fell from his eyes unto her knuckles. "Is there anything you want me to do for you, Ma?"

"W-where is y-your father?" Cagalli gasps.

"I'm right here love," Athrun sits on Cagalli's other side, and holds her hand like their son.

"Forgive us, son, forgive us." Tears creeps through wrinkled skin, "We did…best…we could…take care…of….of…your f-father…"

"Ssh, Ma, it's okay. It's okay." Daxien soothes, "There is nothing to forgive." He doesn't lie. There really is nothing to forgive. How could he hate the two people who made him out of love, and loved him throughout the years, although in their unconventional ways. "Father and I are going to be alright, Ma. Don't you worry. Right, Father?"

It's the first time he addresses Athrun with such familial term, which overwhelmed Athrun so much that he only managed to nod.

"Daxien…" Cagalli calls him again. Her time is near, she could feel it. Mere seconds left. Death approaches. She could feel his inviting hand. "…love you…son…"

With that, Daxien crumbles into a fit of sobs and he buries his face into her stomach.

"Athrun…" The queen cracks her heavy lids open one last time to look at her son, and then the man who gave her everything. She smiles, and her eyes seem to glow like the light of heaven is shining from within. "On the other side then?"

"Of course." He promises.

Athrun leans down to kiss her once more. When his lips leave hers, so does her last breath.

…

…

"_Kira, are you listening to me?" _

_Kira Yamato finds himself sitting in the garden of his Heliopolis cottage, idly stirring tea with a silver spoon. Why is he here again? _

"_Kira?" _

_Ah yes. Kira looks up at Cagalli, who is frowning at him. They always have tea together every second Wednesday of each month. _

"_Yes, Cagalli what were you saying?" _

_She rolls her eyes, and held her hand out to him. A handcrafted white-gold ring adorned with a quaint ruby surrounded by glistening diamonds is sitting on her left ring finger. "I finally made an honest man out of Athrun." _

_Kira chuckles and sips his tea, not surprised at all, "Well congrats sis. I'd say about time, but you were the one who insisted the day you will marry him is the day you die…" _

_Wait… Kira looks up. They received the phone call from Riley. H-he is supposed to be on a plane to Orb. _

_Cagalli was no longer chatty and playful. She sits there with a small sad smile and a youthfulness that is otherworldly. Her hair is blonde like sunlight, and her skin smooth and soft. _

"_That's right," Cagalli says, examining her ring with a pleased smile, "We made a deal, Athrun and I. And he pulled through. Good man." _

_Kira feels a hallowness settling in._

"_I missed you, didn't I?" He asks, "You're dead."_

"_Depends on how you look at it." Cagalli tilts her head to the side. "My time is limited here. The calling is strong. I must go soon." _

"_To where?" Kira can't help but ask. _

"_God knows. To wherever the calling takes me." Cagalli squeezes his hand across the table, "It's all good, big bro. All good." Her touch is incorporeal, like a breeze caressing his skin. _

"_Big bro? Since when?" _

"_I did some digging," She sighs theatrically, and then shrugs, "You were born first. Crap on a cracker." _

_Kira let out a small chuckle. "I'll miss you Cagalli. You were the best sis I could ask for. I love you." _

"_Oh save me the weepy chickflick moment, Kira." Cagalli teases, "but I'll miss you too, and I love you more. Say bye to the our friends for me, won't you? And Lacus. God, I'll miss her." _

"_I will." Kira promises. _

"_Goodbye, Kira." She leans in, and presses a whisper of a kiss against his forehead. When he opens his eyes, the garden has disappeared, and so has she. _

"Kira. Kira," Lacus shakes her husband, "Wake up. We're about to land."

Kira opens his eyes, and blinks a few times at Lacus. His reaches for her hand, and is relieved to find that he can hold it like he can a gun. This is real, Lacus is still here. He turns to the window of the shuttle and sees the docking port below. The sky melted with the sea and Orb is lovely from up above. Cagalli has chosen a good day to go. Kira pulls out his phone and sees a dozen messages from his kids. _It isn't just a dream, then._ He thinks.

"Kira, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

The old general turns to his wife and says with a mournful smile, "She's gone. Long live the queen."

The End

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you all for reading. I know the second part took too long to be updated. I was reallly really busy the past few months! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are very welcomed like always!<p> 


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